Outcasts
by Foxflight
Summary: Alahn was a man of Rohan until he tried to throw the king's adviser across the room. Alone, chased by orcs and wargs, and with only his horse, Firefly, for company, he seeks sanctuary in Rivendell... Elves are supposed to be perfect, but Jaylan can't speak, and only a rogue human thinks he knows more than he lets on. Sometimes you find friends in unlikely places.
1. Rivendell

**_Okay, so before you read-hold on a second. HEY YOU! THE ONE WHO JUST SKIPPED THE INTRO! I PUT IT HERE FOR A REASON! Ahem. As I was saying, this is the second story I've started (no, I'm not done with the first one, and yes, I'm aware this is a bad habit), and like that other one, this one takes place in Middle-Earth; however, unlike the other one (which you should also read, by the way), this one takes place about 3-5 years before The Fellowship of the Ring. Both are in my unique version of Middle-Earth (which means some of the characters from my other story miiiiiiight show up in here), but you don't need to read the other one to understand what's going on here (which doesn't mean you shouldn't read it)._**

**_Also, I'd like to apologize if this chapter isn't quite up to the standards I've set in my other story, since I'm not entirely familiar with these characters yet._**

The elves, with their keen ears, heard the clip-clop of hooves long before the unexpected visitor came into view, so Elrond had plenty of time to finish his page in the book he was reading, a tome so old the pages seemed about to crumble to dust, and to replace it lovingly in its place on the shelf and then make his way down to the bridge to see who it was. Rivendell did not have too many visitors, but they came often enough that no one was all that surprised; indeed, the horse master was likely filling a manger in the stable already, and Lindir, whose job it was to greet visitors, would be on his way to the bridge, if he was not already there. That was why Elrond was surprised when the perpetually nervous-looking elf almost ran into him on his way out the door.

Lindir quickly got out of his way, then fell into step next to him. "I beg your pardon, my lord, but I thought you should know—one of the Rohirrim approaches."

Elrond raised an eyebrow, but did not stop; actually, he sped up. "A man of Rohan? News that has traveled so far cannot be good."

"That was my thought, as well," Lindir agreed.

. . . . . .

The flaxen-haired human patted his mount's neck. "Easy there, Firefly. It's just a bridge."

The golden stallion laid his ears back, but he was too well-trained to break his steady trot, even if it was taking him onto a narrow band of stone over a drop that horses were not meant to be near, and even if his rider's hold on the reins was too tight—the rider had never been this far from solid ground either, after all. He was annoyed at that; he could not show the skinny elves that he was uncomfortable. He breathed deeply, trying to remember how to be polite despite his exhaustion and all the anger that had built up inside him.

He needn't have worried; the bridge could hold fifty horses without so much as a groan, and the elves were too busy with their own worried expressions to have noticed his if it had been present. In fact, Elrond and Lindir met the human on the bridge instead of on solid ground.

"Hello, good elves," the man of Rohan said politely, discreetly turning his horse's head in case the need to run happened to arise; he was _not_ afraid, but he _was _out of his element, not knowing what to expect. Luckily, the horses of Rohan were trained to rear and turn in place if necessary, since the bridge was not all that wide. "May I stay in your fair town for a few days? I am in need of rest and supplies." That being because first his people and then warg-riders had chased him and his horse across Middle-Earth.

The elves relaxed visibly. "Your message is not for us, then?" Elrond asked, wondering where the man could be going if it was farther northwest than Rivendell.

"I bear no message," the human corrected, confused.

"Then why..." Elrond trailed off, his eyes looking the tall, bearded, blue-eyed human—whose nose had clearly been broken many times—and his fine horse up and down. The stallion's coat glowed from polishing only and not health, he could see, and his owner did not fare any better. There were also two halves of a spear tied to the saddle. "Of course you are welcome here..." He waited for the human's name.

"Alahn."

"Alahn, you may stay as long as you wish as long as you wish if you respect my people and our home," Elrond promised.

Alahn resisted the urge to groan. He had made such promises many times, and broken them almost as often. Still, surely none of these elves would need punching as much as that slimy excuse for a king's adviser had. Everyone who had met him had wanted to throw him across the room, anyway; Alahn had just never been the most... ahem... forgiving of men; thus, the oft-broken nose and his presence here. "I will do my best," he told Elrond.

"Then welcome to Rivendell, Alahn."

. . . . . .

"This will be your room while you stay here," Elrond told Alahn a while later, after Firefly had settled into the stable—the human had insisted that his horse's needs be cared for first.

Alahn would have been more comfortable in the stable than in the spacious and lavishly decorated room, but he thanked Elrond anyway, just glad that he would be sleeping in a bed for the first time in weeks.

"Do you require anything else?"

To be able to go home, Alahn thought, but he shook his head. He did not want to talk to this elf anymore.

"Then you are free to explore the city, and I will see you later," Elrond said, and left. After dumping his things on the floor, so did Alahn.

He wandered up and down the streets—or rather, the paths—for a while, absorbing the peacefulness of the place. He felt like a fish out of water here, but it was better than running from orcs in the wilderness. He visited the stables again and was glad to find that Firefly, at least, seemed content. He patted the other horses and found that, while all were friendly and healthy, few looked like a match for even an average horse of Rohan. He swelled with pride at that thought, but then his shoulders sagged as he remembered that Rohan was no longer his home. He turned and walked out of the stable, not wanting any more reminders, and tripped over the elf-child sitting in the middle of the path, watching the birds in the tree above.

"Is it an elvish custom to sit right where visitors are walking?" Alahn growled, picking himself up off the ground. He had not been in the best of moods to begin with, but falling on his face had not helped anything.

The elf ignored him. Alahn looked more closely at him and realized that he was not young, just small—but then again, who could tell with these pointy-eared creatures? Anyway, he seemed to be... what was the word? Medi-something? Eomer had joked that he should do it after he'd started yet another bar fight. "I'm talking to you, tiny."

The elf's light blue-gray eyes stayed trained on the trees; his face was so utterly blank that Alahn found it rather eerie. It was like the human wasn't even there. Alahn prodded him, and finally got a reaction when the elf scooted away just the tiniest bit. "Hey, look at me." He poked him over and over until finally the elf got up, moved a few steps away, and sat down again, crossing his legs and staring upward.

"Rude," Alahn huffed. He followed the elf and ruffled his black hair, tugged on his cloak, and clapped his hands in front of the elf's face; this last one made the elf jerk back, and he swatted Alahn's hands—and then the rest of Alahn—away, but once again, his face remained expressionless. Alahn was starting to wonder if... but elves were supposed to be all perfect, weren't they? "C'mon, elf, talk to me."

"He cannot speak," someone—his clothing was dusted with horse hair and straw, so Alahn assumed he was the horse master—said from the stable door.

"'Cannot'?" Alahn echoed. "Are you saying...?" He pointed to his head, and the horse master nodded. "But I thought... that... didn't happen with elves."

"It does not," the horse master responded, walking past him. "Dínen, will you never learn not to sit on the ground?" He pulled the little elf to his feet. "I apologize; he is not supposed to be here. I suppose I will just have to go find someone to watch him."

"I could do it." Alahn surprised himself with his offer, but he felt sorry for the little guy.

The horse master considered him for a moment, but only that. "Very well, but you are wasting your time, human. Lord Elrond worked with him for forty years and failed."

_Failed at what?_ Alahn wondered, but he shrugged. The horse master unceremoniously deposited the small elf on a bench and turned to leave. "Wait," Alahn called after him. "Dínen. Is that his name?"

The horse master glanced back over his shoulder. "No, 'Dínen' means 'silent'. His name is Jaylan."

"Jaylan?" Alahn asked the little elf, but if he hoped to get a reaction, he was disappointed, because all Jaylan did was return to his spot on the ground—the birds were still above it—as soon as the horse master was out of sight. _Aha,_ Alahn thought, _So you_ do_ know we're here._ "You should've told me you couldn't talk," he told Jaylan, sitting next to him—he thought he noticed the elf leaning away a little. "Would have saved me a lot of trouble."

If the elf heard, he gave no sign of it.

They sat in silence, Jaylan watching the birds, Alahn thinking. "_I_ don't think you're a lost cause," the human decided after a few minutes. "My best friend can't talk, either. He's a horse, you know. Fastest you'll ever ride." Another pause. Alahn reflected that it was hard to have a conversation when only one of you talked. "You like the birds, huh? Did you know there's a bird called a jay? Like your name, get it? And they have blue on their wings, like your eyes." He grinned. "Can I call you Jay?" Alahn took the elf's lack of response as a yes and turned his own face up to watch the birds. Rohan had few songbirds, and these ones' music reminded him again just how far away from home he was, but at least his new friend (a friend who ignored him, but beggars couldn't be choosers) seemed to appreciate them. Alahn found himself trying to whistle the bird's songs back at them; it took him a few tries, but he managed to match the one he thought was prettiest. He leaned back smugly and, at a thought, glanced over to make sure Jay was still there—and, to his great surprise, found the elf watching him, although he still could not fathom his expression.

"Hello," Alahn said. The elf started to look away, but when Alahn repeated the birdcall, his head turned back again, although Alahn noticed that Jay seemed to be examining all of him, only glancing at his face once and not meeting his eyes even for an instant. He wondered if the little elf thought he might be hiding a bird under his coat. Maybe if he tried another call...

. . . . . .

"You know, Jay, no one understands us," Alahn told the elf, who was a great listener; not once had he interrupted the human that day. He did move every so often, following the birds, but Alahn just went with him. "That horse master seemed to think you didn't know what the bench was for, the way he dumped you onto it," he continued, "but you just think the ground's better, don't you? I know how it is. My people thought I didn't know how to be nice, see, just because I tried to break someone's face, but I'm telling you, it would've made _him_ nicer. And I don't think they ever thought _I_ was very smart, either." He patted Jay's shoulder. "But you know what I've learned today? We don't need them. They can go do all the normal stuff they want, but we're going to sit here and watch birds all day if we want to, and they can't stop us." He slapped his knee to emphasize his point, and Jay flinched at the sound. "Oops. Sorry, buddy."

Jay just kept his eyes on the birds, and Alahn decided to do the same—until his stomach growled, that is. "Are you hungry?" No response, of course. "No? Well, I'm going to go find something to eat, so..." He stood and stretched. "See you tomorrow."

He looked back before he turned the corner, and found that Jay was watching him. "You sure you don't want to come?" When the elf stayed put, he beckoned him forward. "C'mon."

Jay shifted a little.

"I could use the company."

The elf hesitated—or at least, Alahn assumed that was what his lack of movement meant.

"You know you want to," Alahn told him.

Maybe the elf knew he was right, or maybe he'd been about to come anyway, but Jay slowly got up and joined Alahn, who grinned. "Don't worry; I won't tell," the human promised.

Jay only watched him.

. . . . . .

Alahn yanked on the girth, then kneed Firefly's side hard. With a huff, the stallion let out the breath he'd been holding, and Alahn finished securing the saddle. "He was making himself bigger," the man explained to Jay, who was petting the horse. "It's a trick he learned to make the girth looser, but then the saddle would slide and I'd fall off."

Firefly lowered his head to sniff Jay. It was obvious to Alahn that the little elf had never been let near a horse from the way he'd approached the stallion—timidly at first, but as soon as Firefly had looked at him, it had been as if he'd spent years around horses. Firefly was much friendlier to the elf than to most strangers, too.

Alahn was going to miss Jay. Besides Firefly, the elf was the only friend he had right now. He'd have to visit soon, but after getting into a fight with one of the other elves that morning, he'd gotten the impression that he'd worn out his welcome. "You could come with me, you know. I'd treat you better than they do." It was his impression that all the other elves ever did was put him in a chair (which Jay did not like any more than the bench, and he refused to sit in them the way he was supposed to) and hand him something shiny to play with in the hope that he'd stay there.

Jay's head twitched once, then again—something the other elves assumed he just did randomly. Over his weeks in Rivendell, though, Alahn had noticed it happened more when his friend was excited, so he was smiling when he moved to Firefly's head and took the reins. "I'm thinking I'll visit the Shire," he remarked to both of them as he led the horse forward. "Where the halflings live, you know? My mother used to tell me stories about them. I've always wanted to meet a real one." He kept chattering as they made their way down to the bridge. He didn't need to check to know that the elf was shadowing him.

Elrond was waiting for them at the bridge. "Good morning," he said to Alahn, his eyes flickering over the smaller elf who was, as had become his habit, shadowing the human.

"The same to you, good elf," Alahn replied. "We thank you for your hospitality, but we must be on our way now." He made for the bridge, but Elrond stepped in his way.

"And so you shall," the elf-lord agreed, "but I cannot allow you to take him with you."

Alahn bristled.

"Hear me out," Elrond asked. "Four hundred years ago, sixteen elves traveled from Rivendell to the Gray Havens to leave Middle-Earth. Among them were Jaylan and his parents. His father was to captain the ship."

The human frowned, but in truth, he was interested to hear why his friend had returned to Rivendell.

"Many weeks later, they returned. He had refused to board the boat. They had tried everything and failed." Here Elrond paused. "You must understand, in that time there were few elves with knowledge of sailing or the ability to navigate by the stars. His father's presence was absolutely necessary if the ship was to sail. His older brother had been killed in an orc raid shortly before, and his mother nearly faded."

In the human's opinion, that still did not justify what would surely come next. Sure enough, Elrond continued, "They made me promise he would be safe, and that if _I_ ever sailed, I would find some way to take him with me. I plan to keep my promise."

Alahn's face was flushed with anger. "You plan to keep him imprisoned here."

"He does not know the difference," Elrond corrected calmly. "You assume an understanding that he does not have. I am amazed at the bond you have formed with him, but I assure you, he will die if you take him into the wilds."

Elrond would have been much more amazed if he had looked at Jay and seen the tear that trickled from his eye at the mention of his parents and slid down his face; only Alahn thought the little elf was capable of such emotion.

Jay was capable of a lot more than that. As Alahn shouted at Elrond, who took a few steps back, looking unhappy but determined—and clearing the way to the bridge—Jay went around behind Firefly, trailing his hand along the stallion's flanks, which, whether Jay knew it or not, kept him from getting kicked, and, with some difficulty because of his height, scrambled into the saddle unnoticed. Once up there, he thought for a bit, then reached down and pressed his palm into Firefly's side. The horse sidestepped, but horses did that sometimes, so Alahn did not notice something was going on until Jay did that on _both_ sides and Firefly went forward, pulling the reins out of Alahn's hand. The human stared for a second, then turned to Elrond to say something, but only until Jay, deciding the man needed a bit of help figuring out what was happening, grabbed the hood of his coat and yanked with surprising strength.

Alahn climbed onto his horse's back behind Jay and handed his friend the reins—which were promptly discarded. Alahn shrugged and kicked Firefly into a gallop anyway, figuring the horse knew better than to run off the side of the bridge, but it turned out Jay had his own way of steering—pressing on the side of Firefly's neck until the horse turned away from the pressure. Alahn looked back once, to see Elrond still standing there, watching their flight. If he hadn't known better, he would have said the elf-lord was smiling.

**_I'm still planning to mostly work on my other story; this one doesn't have a definite end, so I'll just add to it whenever I get an idea, I guess. That being said, the more reviews I get, the more likely I am to update soon. Also, if you have an account so that I can respond to you, please ask questions. I can think of at least one that at least half of you should have. Now I just need to say that again for the people who don't read the end comments either: REVIEW. ASK QUESTIONS. I KNOW YOU HAVE THEM. YOU'RE JUST PRETENDING YOU DON'T. ALSO, WE WRITERS SPEND ACTUAL TIME WRITING THESE COMMENTS INSTEAD OF OUR STORIES, SO READ THEM._**

**_For those of you who are wondering why I'm yelling at people about skipping the comments, it's because I noticed myself doing it the other day. _:P**


	2. Stubborn Elf

"Jay, buddy, you're supposed to hit me with the stick," Alahn repeated yet again. "We're pretending it's a sword, remember?"

They had been in the wilderness for a day and a half, traveling through the scrubland that surrounded Rivendell, and, if Alahn had been willing to admit he could be wrong, he might have said he had figured out why Elrond had thought this was a bad idea. Maybe he shouldn't have thumped the elf with his own stick to get Jay to parry. Whether the elf had understood what he wanted or not, he had effectively communicated that he did not like being thumped.

"Look, I said I was sorry. Come on—" He picked up Jay's stick and tossed it at the elf, who just gave him what he imagined to be an accusatory look and edged back. "Jay! Pick up the stick!" He mimed lifting something from the ground. "And then—WHAM!" He swung the imaginary blade forcefully.

Jay jumped and narrowed his eyes, which Alahn had learned meant "What you are trying to make me do is stupid. Stay away from me." So far it was the only expression of his that Alahn knew of, but it was used enough to make up for the lack of the others.

Alahn decided to change tactics. "I'll let you groom Firefly." Jay's interest in the horse showed no signs of decreasing yet.

The elf didn't move, but Alahn could never tell if he was thinking about it or laughing at him on the inside. "Please, buddy? There are orcs all over the place these days."

Nothing.

"I'll take you back," Alahn threatened, though he had no intention of following through on it. "I'll give you back to Elrond."

That got a response, but not the one the human had been hoping for. Jay turned around and just walked away.

Alahn threw his stick to the ground in frustration and started off after the elf.

. . . . . .

Alahn pulled his cloak more tightly around him in a futile attempt to stay dry as he worked furiously to light a fire under the scraggly tree they had chosen as shelter. "Stupid rain," he growled over the howling wind. "Stupid storm. Forget teaching you to fight, Jay. The weather's going to stop us before the orcs do."

The elf's eyes seemed to blame him for getting them into that situation.

"What are you complaining about?" Alahn asked angrily. "Elves don't get cold."

_But they do get wet,_ Jay seemed to say as he shrunk back further into the tree.

"I don't see you trying to light the fire." The human threw another soaked bit of kindling to the side.

Jay, as usual, had no answer. At least it was easy to have the last word with him.

Alahn finally abandoned his pile of soggy wood to huddle next to the elf. "May all the North rot under this rain," he muttered, glaring out at the grass and bushes that were just enough like those of his homeland to remind him of what he had lost.

Jay reached out to pat Firefly, who was nibbling the muddy grass, looking only a little less miserable than his master.

"We used to serve the king," Alahn complained. "Before Gríma wormed his way into his mind, that rotten orc-spawn. And he rewarded us by calling me a traitor and reducing us to nothing more than orc-bait! Instead of fighting with highly trained Rohirrim, I'm drowning in the wilds with a stupid elf!" He tore a peeling strip of bark off the tree and threw it into the rain with all his strength, then put his flaxen-haired head on his knees and went silent.

Moments passed, and the human realized he was no longer getting quite as wet. He looked up and discovered that there was a horse between him and most of the rain. Poor Firefly was still getting wet, but he and Jay were not. "Thanks, buddy..." Alahn trailed off as he realized Firefly was watching the elf intently. As he looked on, the elf reached out to tap the horse's leg, and Firefly took another step forward so that he was even more completely shielding the two. When that was done, Jay turned back to the storm.

Alahn blinked. "Smart elf," he corrected himself, feeling a little ashamed that _he_ had not thought of that.

Lightning flashed, lighting up Jay's pale eyes.

. . . . . .

They passed the night huddled against the tree, shielded only by an increasingly unhappy horse. Eventually, Jay draped his cloak—which, along with the other supplies he needed, had mysteriously appeared next to him sometime during their first night in the wilderness, and Jay wasn't telling how they got there—over the stallion, but it was too small to do much good. They ate cold (and soggy) biscuits and went to sleep, or at least Alahn did. He never could tell when the elf fell asleep.

The wind and rain stopped sometime during the night, leaving pools of water hidden under the grass wherever there was a dip in the ground. Alahn was not overly excited about traveling, but the clouds were still an ominous gray and he was sure there had to be a better shelter somewhere in the rocky hills. "Come on, elf," he said, putting on Firefly's halter—he left the horse untied at night, trusting his old friend to stay nearby. He would lead the horse at first so that Firefly did not have to carry him over the slippery ground; his boots were waterproof, anyway. The two started out, the ground making an unpleasant squelching sound with every step.

Jay did not budge.

Alahn realized this before long—he was developing a sixth sense that told him if his friend was there or not—and turned around. "Elf! We're leaving!"

Jay narrowed his eyes.

"I'll go without you," Alahn threatened. Then, "Okay, fine! I'm leaving now!" He took a few steps away with the horse, then glanced back out of the corner of his eye. The elf had not moved an inch. "Firefly's going, too!" he added. He waited, but that got more reaction than anything else had. He was spending a lot of time losing arguments, he thought. Well, he'd win this one. He'd just keep going, and the elf would catch up before he was over the next rock pile. "Goodbye!" he called back as went. "Nice knowing you, elf! Have fun out here by yourself! It's too bad I have all the foo—WHOA!" Firefly shied back at the splash that resulted from the human's not-so-graceful plunge into a hidden puddle.

Alahn muttered insults as the puddle as he hauled himself back up. As if the elf needed any more reason to be difficult. "That was my fault!" he yelled over his shoulder. "That would never have happened if I had watched where I was going!" Oh, how he hated this land. He liked Jay, but the elf was just impossible. He was halfway to the rock-hill now, and the elf was still under the tree. Well, he'd come soon. Jay would know being in the wilderness alone was not smart.

As a matter of fact, Jay did know that. He also knew Alahn would not leave him behind. The human always stopped and looked for him whenever he was out of sight; logic dictated the same thing would happen now. Alahn would come back for him.

Alahn reached the crest of the rock pile and looked back. He could see the dark spot that was the elf still under the scraggly tree. "GOODBYE!" he shouted. Then he led Firefly over the rocks.

Jay waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Alahn, standing just far enough over the rocky hill that Jay could not see Firefly, groaned. The stubborn elf was going to stay there forever. _Fine_, he thought to himself. He would let Jay win, just this once. They went back.

As soon as they were reached the tree, Jay stood as if nothing had happened, vaulted gracefully onto Firefly's back, and waited for Alahn to lead the stallion.

"Stubborn elf," Alahn grumbled.


	3. Civilization?

**_Sorry it's been so long; I was working on another story, which turned out to be waaaaaaay longer than I thought._**

**Bree, TA 3015—Early Autumn**

"Gatekeeper!"

The old man opened one eye sleepily. Whoever was calling for him sounded very impatient for someone who had spent days traveling there already. Too bad. The old man felt his many years of service had earned him the right to take a nice, long nap on a warm afternoon.

"GATEKEEPER!"

The shout, followed by the sound of metal pounding on the gate, jerked the old man fully out of his sleep and made him shuffle toward the portal at full speed. "Hold on, hold on!" he snapped to calm the madman before he knocked the flimsy gate down. "There was a time when folk respected the elderly—"

He was interrupted as soon as he let the gate swing open. "I apologize, good gatekeeper, but I was so eager to see—" The tall man paused, taking in the shabby buildings and crowded streets, and wrinkled his nose. "—civilization... that I could not wait. Are all the northlands like this?"

"No one made you come," the gatekeeper grumbled, turning back toward his booth.

"And the worst part is, they're not even that badly off. Half the villages in Rohan have a tenth as much wealth and twenty times as much dignity; why, the one where I was born had only eight houses, but I tell you, Jay, you never saw eight houses that were so loved."

The gatekeeper paused in the doorway and turned back, and he had to catch the doorframe to keep his balance at the sight of the golden stallion the blond man led through the gates, the likes of which had never been seen in Bree since its founding. He noticed the newcomer's armor for the first time, and his sword and spear (which was of elvish style, not that he knew that), but he paid little attention to the small cloaked figure that shadowed the man, assuming it to be his son or something.

The tall man noticed his stare. "This is Firefly. He's something, isn't he?"

The gatekeeper nodded speechlessly and disappeared, already planning the moment when he would tell his grandchildren he had seen a real warrior of Rohan and his horse.

The warrior was less impressed by the town he had just entered. "Bree," he said, feeling how the word rolled off his tongue. "I miss my home. Come on, elf, let's go find some food."

Jay sent one last unreadable look after the old man as they departed.

. . . . . .

"_The Prancing Pony,_" Alahn read from the weather-beaten sign that presumably described the building in front of them. "Looks as good as anything here."

A scraggly-looking villager with an armful of carrots cleared his throat. "Nice horse you got there. Ya mind moving him?"

Alahn realized Firefly was blocking the road and turned him so he was against the wall. "My apologies. Say, is the food here any good?" He gestured to the sign.

The villager lifted a carrot to his black-bearded mouth and bit off a chunk with a loud crunch. "Best in Bree."

"Perfect. Thank you." Firefly snuffled at the carrots, and Alahn had to hold him back. "Say, good sir—" He paused for the man's name.

"Peter," the man responded, munching his carrot.

"—could you spare a carrot? My horse has been eating grass for weeks."

"Sure." Peter gripped his carrot in his teeth so he could hand another one to Alahn. "Good day."

"Good day, and thank you for your help," Alahn called after him as he wandered off down the street, finishing the first carrot and starting on a second. "Well, if the place is good enough for him, it must be good enough for a man and an elf who haven't had a thing other than dry meat and biscuits for weeks. Come on, Jay." He quickly tied Firefly to a convenient post, then thrust open the door. The two were immediately assaulted by the roar of shouts and clanging plates and stomping boots that always went with taverns, as well as the smells of mouthwatering food, smoke, animals, and people all washing over each other and mixing. The human hardly noticed, though; he was used to the rowdy celebrations of Rohan, and, more importantly, he was hungry.

Jay felt differently. The elf jerked away from the flood of noise and smells and movement that came through the open door. Alahn went inside, but Jay hesitated, not wanting to be left alone, but unwilling to go in _there_.

"Let's go, elf," Alahn said impatiently, beckoning for Jay to follow. "I'm starving."

Jay looked away and took a few steps back.

"It's just an inn, Jay." After all the time he'd spent anticipating this event—the eating of actual _food_—the man's patience had run out like the pastries at a hobbit party. He fastened his hand around the elf's arm and heaved. "Come on!"

Jay shrieked and thrashed. Alahn was so shocked to hear a sound come out of him that he let the elf slip out of his grasp, and Jay tumbled to the ground, then scrambled behind Firefly before the human recovered.

Alahn looked down at his empty hand, then over at the elf, watching him warily from under his horse's neck. "Or don't," the still-stunned man said with a shrug. He went inside alone, muttering, "Crazy elf. Whose idea was it, bringing him with me?"

The conversation inside had briefly ceased at the elf's shriek, and everyone's eyes were on Alahn as he entered. He ignored all of them except for the fat man with an apron who approached him.

"And what can I do for you, young master?" The man asked in a jovial tone. "Supper, perhaps, for you and your boy? My name is Barliman—Barliman Butterbur; this is my inn. Oh—just a moment, I do believe I've forgotten something." He dashed out of sight, and Alahn heard him shouting at someone named Nob, but he returned only a moment later. "That's the problem with being so busy; my brain's all filled up. Now, what was it you wanted, Mr...?

"Alahn," the taller man said. "I would like a room—no, forget that." Hauling Jay through the inn would not be worth the effort. "Supper, please, and a stall for my horse."

"Of course, of course," the fat man agreed enthusiastically. "Just a moment." He raced away again.

Alahn finally noticed that he was being stared at. "Greetings, good folk of Bree," he said with a touch of sarcasm.

The Prancing Pony's customers looked around at each other, none of them quite ready to say anything that might offend the well-muscled newcomer. Finally, an old, snaggle-toothed fellow spoke up. "Something wrong with that boy?"

"The elf?" Alahn sighed. "No respect for good food, that one. I hope he's happy with another meal of hard biscuits." In truth, he already knew he would be taking the elf food after he'd eaten.

Old Snaggle-Tooth glanced around to make sure his friends were backing him up, and then sneered, "He ain't one of _those_, is he?"

"_Those_?" Alahn asked defensively.

"The ones who ain't right in the head," Snaggle-Tooth explained. Two of the other men eyed each other and went for the door, but Alahn paid no attention to them. "We don't like their kind around here," the old man whispered conspiratorially.

Alahn stiffened. "You'll like him," he growled at Snaggle-Tooth, who shrank back. The blond man might have let it go then if he hadn't heard a scream from outside. Moments later, the door burst open as the two mean who had gone outside returned, dragging a struggling elf between them.

The human stood up so fast he knocked his table all the way to Snaggle-Tooth's. "Put. Him. Down," he ordered.

"I think we'd rather have some fun with the freak, eh, boys?" Snaggle-Tooth corrected. The others sneered, confident that their strength in numbers would keep them safe. One kicked Jay.

That was too much for Alahn. He picked up his chair and smashed it into the head of one of the men who was hurting his friend. The bully crumpled to the floor. The other man tried to run, but Alahn wasn't having that. He punched that coward so hard that the table the man slammed into lost a leg when it hit the wall.

Alahn was ready for more, but the people of Bree—the ones who hadn't cleared out when Snaggle-Tooth's gang found their newest victims, that is—had seen enough. They were out the back door before Alahn could blink, except for a few brave ones who had carefully kept their eyes on their food the whole time, and Barliman Butterbur, who had come too late to put a stop to the trouble. The latter opened his mouth to offer Alahn and his small friend a free meal, but the human had already pulled poor Jay to his feet, and they were out the door in a heartbeat. Moments later, they rode back out the gate at a gallop. Jay was already recovering from his ordeal, but Alahn would never forget the criminals of Bree if he lived to be a hundred.


	4. Hello

**_Hi! Fear not, Jay wasn't permanently damaged in the last chapter. Maybe this one, though... or maybe not. You'll have to read to find out._**

_The Wilds, TA 3015—Early Autumn_

"I really must buy him a horse," Alahn mused as he watched his small friend grooming Alahn's golden stallion. Jay's head barely reached the middle of the horse's belly, but the elf had no problem with hopping onto Firefly's back to reach the higher spots on the horse. Indeed, Alahn was sure he saw a hint of a smile on Jay's blank face.

Alahn, on the other hand, wasn't nearly as carefree; every few seconds, his eyes left his two friends to go darting over the surrounding hills, straining to catch a glimpse of the orc band which he knew to be following him, perhaps the same ones who had chased him into Rivendell weeks before.

. . . . . .

As it turned out, Alahn needn't have bothered to be so alert, because it was Firefly who noticed the orcs' approach some hours later—and a good thing he did, too, because their warg mounts did not give the trio much time to flee. Luckily, Jay, despite having never seen an orc or one of their giant canine allies except from a great distance, understood the danger and was on Firefly's back with his belongings in an instant. Alahn vaulted up behind him a moment later, and off they went. Still, they had a problem; the sun was nearing the horizon, and while a fine Rohan-bred horse could outrun wargs in the daylight, he could not pick his way quickly enough in the darkness. If the three did not escape somehow, they would have to fight, and Alahn did not like their odds, which were at least two to one, and probably more, not to mention that neither of his friends could use a sword.

The human knew they would never lose their enemies before dark, so when they came across a thick stand of trees, Alahn steered his galloping horse toward it in the hope that the tangled branches would at least discourage their enemies from sneaking up behind them. He drew Firefly to a stop and dismounted, putting Firefly and Jay between him and the trees, and turned to scan the surrounding hills intently as the wargs' baying drew closer.

He didn't have long to wait; within minutes the wolflike monsters came into view, the orcs on their backs readying their weapons. There were exactly six wargs, each ridden by an orc, but despite their obvious advantage, the creatures did not attack immediately; they were intelligent enough to know that their group would be smaller by the time the human with the sharp sword was dead.

That didn't matter much to them, though, and so the biggest warg barked for the attack to begin.

Alahn's hope had faded as soon as he saw the pack's numbers; he could hope to defeat half that force, perhaps, before then he would fall, and what would happen to Jay and Firefly then?

There was only one thing to do. Just before the monsters reached him, he would smack Firefly into a gallop, and then distract the wargs so they could escape. He had to hope they would be able to make it to safety without him.

But he never got the chance because, just as he was reaching for his horse, the leading warg collapsed with a squeal, its orc rider tumbling off as the ugly wolf crashed to the earth. Then there was a soft _twang _from behind Jay and Firefly, and another warg died—no, two more. The rest scrambled to a halt, whipping their heads around in search of the mysterious attacker.

_Twang_. _Twang_. _Twang_. Another warg and three orcs were dead, but one of the remaining pair of wargs, now riderless, charged past the trio in a sudden burst of movement, planning to tear through the thicket until it found the hidden attacker.

It died at the end of a shortsword, and a man hopped gracefully over its body, wiping his bloody sword on its thick fur. Alahn saw a glimmer of green under the hood of the stranger's green and brown cloak.

The three orcs and single warg that were left found that they no longer liked the odds, and they wisely ran for their lives, but they were too slow—the stranger took his longbow off his back, notched two arrows, and sent them into the air, followed closely by another pair, and then turned to Alahn without waiting to see if his shots landed (which all four of them did). "Hello."

"Greetings, good traveler..." Alahn started, but the stranger was no longer looking at him; his eyes, which Alahn could barely see under the shadow from his hood, were on Jay, who was staring back at him with surprising intensity. The stranger went into a series of complex hand movements, ending with a questioning tilt of his head, and to Alahn's utter astonishment, Jay responded in kind!

The stranger nodded and faced Alahn again. "I visit Rivendell every so often," he explained.

Alahn fought back his shock enough to ask, "Are you one of the rangers of these lands, then?"

The stranger laughed softly and reached up to remove his hood. "No."

Alahn gaped, and then had to hold back a snort. The stranger was not a human; he was the strangest-looking elf Alahn had ever seen! Not that that was saying much.

The stranger cracked a grin at Alahn's attempt to keep a neutral expression. "What? Never seen an elf with war paint before?"

Alahn forced his mouth into a straight line and shook his head.

"Then you've never been farther east then the Iron Hills," the elf said, reaching up to trace the three curved blue-gray lines that swirled from under his left eye down to the center of his cheek. "It's the norm over there. It's a dye, you know, not a paint. Lasts for weeks."

It wasn't just that, though. The elf's eyes were speckled brown and a bright, bright summery green, and... "And the charcoal?" Alahn had to ask.

"Isn't," the elf sighed, as though he'd had to explain it a thousand times. "_That_ I was born with." He fingered his black-streaked copper hair, which did indeed look like he had smeared it with charcoal. "I have stripes," he concluded with a shrug. "It's a blessing and a curse."

Truly, Alahn tried to keep a straight face, but he burst into laughter. Luckily, the elf had a sense of humor about his odd appearance and chuckled.

"And what is your name, good elf?" Alahn inquired, more seriously.

"Storm," the elf said with a small bow. "And you?"

"Alahn."

"Of Rohan?"

"Once," the man stated, and Storm did not press further.

"And Jaylan I know, but what is the name of this fine beast?" Storm asked, stepping gracefully over to Alahn's horse. The stallion sniffed him and nickered.

Alahn liked this elf. "His name is Firefly, and he is a noble companion indeed."

"He looks it," the strange elf agreed. "Now, let's find a camping site upwind of these pleasant corpses here." He prodded the closest warg's limp tail with his boot. "May I join you for the night?" he asked both Alahn and Jay, signing to the little elf as he did so.

Jay responded with a sign, and Storm turned to Alahn for confirmation.

"I would not turn away one who so bravely saved our lives," the human assured him.

"It was nothing, but thank you," the elf told him humbly. "Oh, and I have some venison left over from my meal yesterday, if you're interested."

Alahn's mouth watered, and it was several moments before he realized the elf had said his meal _yesterday_.

What a strange elf.

**_For Storm's backstory, see my other Lord of the Rings story, Skyfire. Or you could get to know him through this story, but the first option is preferred because it'll make you read another one of my stories :P_**


End file.
